


Promises

by Eggling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M, post-The Five Doctors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggling/pseuds/Eggling
Summary: In which the Time Lords alter the Doctor's sentence.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> for ettelwenailinon.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as his own TARDIS reformed around him. Already his memories were fading, becoming jumbled and confused until he could no longer remember his future selves’ faces. A light was flashing on the console, and he huffed, reluctantly switching on the temporal link.

“I’ve only just been returned to my own timestream,” he complained. “You couldn’t give me a moment to settle in, could you?”

“You are being conveyed back to Gallifrey,” the CIA agent said, apparently unbothered by his outburst. “You will receive further instructions there.”

“Further instructions,” the Doctor muttered darkly to himself. “I _was_ rather hoping for an early night, after everything.” Despite his now-hazy recollections, the sense that his task had been a harrowing one remained clear. The TARDIS wheezed and shuddered around him, the central column beginning to rise and fall. “I don’t think much of your remote driving system,” he added. “I can pilot my own ship, you know.” The temporal link switched off, as if in response to his complaints, and he sighed, settling into his chair. Surely he was due for some sort of holiday soon, he consoled himself. A nice trip to the seaside, that would cheer him up well enough.

At length, the TARDIS groaned to a halt. Before opening the doors, he took a moment to peer up at his reflection in the scanner screen, ruffling his hair and crinkling his collar. The CIA might force him to look presentable for important missions, but he would not give them the satisfaction of it on Gallifrey.

To his surprise, an agent was already waiting by his assigned docking bay when he stepped out of the TARDIS. “They’re expecting you in the trial chamber,” they told him.

“The trial chamber?” The Doctor tapped his fingers together nervously. _But why would they…_ “Have they decided that my service is no longer required?”

The agent stepped aside wordlessly, and he carried on down the corridor, hearts pounding in his chest. When he drew close to the trial chamber, the tell-tale buzz of the restraining beam drifted out from behind the door, interspersed with a muffled banging. He paused, wondering what new task they had dreamt up for him, and why they had chosen to brief him here. Some lost creature or being to drop home, no doubt, he thought despairingly, something caught by a time eddy – or worse still, a Vortisaur that had gotten itself into the citadel somehow. He might have been good enough to wrangle one of those in his academy days, but there was a large chance that he had lost his touch, and an even larger possibility that he would succumb to the temptation to simply leave it there, after the day he seemed to have had -

The sound of an impossibly familiar voice startled him out of his memories.

He drew to a halt before the door, straining to listen over the sound of his own beating hearts. For a brief moment, he managed to convince himself that he had been dreaming – but there it was again, as loud and clear as if he had stepped from the present back into his own past.

“Why won’t ye let me see him?” The voice was Jamie’s, insistent and angry and just a touch frightened. “What’ve ye done tae him? At least tell me where he is!”

The sound of Jamie’s confusion and distress was enough to jolt the Doctor into shoving the door open and bursting into the chamber. The sight that greeted him was heart-stoppingly familiar, and the mere thought of the trial all those years ago enough to rattle him, but his eyes had fixed on Jamie, and he felt as if he would never be able to look away. Turning towards the sound of the door opening, Jamie caught sight of him and beamed, making his hearts clench again.

“Doctor!” he exclaimed, making as if to rush towards him but being pushed back by the barrier of light around him. “What’s happenin’, they wouldnae tell me anything -” He shoved at the barrier again. “I dinnae understand why they’d send me away an’ they bring me back – are ye alright, what did they do to ye?” The questions spilled eagerly out of his mouth, each punctuated by another attempt to break free, but the Doctor did not answer, instead tearing his gaze away to stare determinedly up at his fellow Time Lords.

“He’s an illusion, isn’t he?” Jamie froze, his face falling. “You’ve just – just summoned up a projection of him.” One memory broke through the time-fog, choking him for a moment with its intensity. He had already seen one vision of Jamie today, he remembered that much, and he had no desire to be forced to see another. A shudder ran through him at the thought of that terrible scream as the other Jamie had vanished, echoing around – a tower, he thought, somehow a thing of the Time Lords’ doing. But his thoughts were being clouded again, and he could recall no more. “Why?”

“’Course I’m real!” Jamie insisted, but the Doctor ignored him.

“Well?” he challenged the judges. “What do you want from me?”

“He is perfectly real,” one of them replied. “You have requested that your companion be returned to you, and we have done so.”

“If he was real, you’d let him out of the forcefield,” the Doctor snapped. He jogged down the stairs to walk around the plinth where Jamie stood, examining him from various angles, half-expecting to find him two-dimensional or flickering in and out of corporeality. “Stop playing games.”

The column of light collapsed, and Jamie tumbled to the floor. Hurrying to pick himself up, he ran to hug the Doctor, almost knocking him over in his eagerness. The Doctor froze for a moment, startled by Jamie’s sudden warmth. He had been so convinced that the Time Lords were tricking him that he had not stopped to consider what he would do if Jamie _was_ real. Only when Jamie made as if to draw away confusedly did he curl into the hug, pulling him close again. It had surely been decades since someone had touched him unthinkingly like this, he realised. He had been held at arm’s length like something dirty or unwanted for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to have Jamie’s easy affection.

“What’s happenin’?” Jamie asked again, clutching at the back of his shirt as if worried he would drift away. “Why didn’t ye believe I was real?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” the Doctor murmured into Jamie’s shoulder. When he lifted his head, he saw the Time Lords staring down at them disapprovingly, and hurriedly disentangled himself from Jamie as if scalded. The hurt in Jamie’s eyes pained him, but he could not resist the burning needles of shame prickling up and down his spine. He should have known better than to allow the Time Lords to see him hug Jamie – and in the trial chamber, of all places. “Why _have_ you brought him here, then?” he asked them, trying to direct the tension away from the hug, from Jamie’s hand still resting on his shoulder. “I, ah, thought you came to the conclusion that he belonged in his proper time. What changed your minds?”

“The Council’s decision has been -” The Time Lord paused, considering, giving the Doctor an icy smile. “Somewhat amended, in light of your recent conduct.”

Drawing himself up, the Doctor squared his shoulders, staring down the other Time Lords as best he could from where he stood on the chamber floor. “I assume you’re going to give me a new mission?” Jamie’s grip on his shoulder tightened, fingers slipping inside his collar. He glanced between the Doctor and the Time Lords, regarding both with equal nervousness.

“No new assignments are available,” came the dispassionate reply. “You will be notified when the situation changes.” One of the Time Lords turned their gaze away from the Doctor and Jamie, looking almost queasy. “You’re free to go.”

“Hmph.” The Doctor patted Jamie’s side. “Come on, Jamie.” He swept up the stairs and out of the room, leaving Jamie to trail awkwardly behind him.

“What was that all about?” he hissed. “They wouldnae tell me what was happenin’ -”

“I told you, I don’t fully understand it myself, Jamie,” the Doctor said wearily. Jamie’s fingers brushed against his own, and he snatched his hand away, alarmed. “Not here. They’d disapprove.”

“Who would?” Jamie broke into a trot to keep up with him. “Your people?” He shot a puzzled, curious glance at a passing Gallifreyan, shrinking back when he was met with only a disapproving glare. “Why don’t they like seeing people touching? Ye never seemed tae mind.”

“Ah – cultural hang-ups of a race of touch telepaths, you understand.”

“Oh.”

“And they’re a frightfully rigid bunch, as I’m sure you’ve worked out. You won’t like them.” The Doctor fumbled with the TARDIS key for a moment, then pushed the door open and slipped inside. His head was still spinning. What could have possessed the Time Lords to change their verdict and return Jamie to him? He found it difficult to believe that his constant petitioning had finally convinced them. They must have had some other motive – but just what that motive might be remained obscure to him.

Jamie reached for his hand again, and he leapt away, feeling a twinge of regret at the hurt on Jamie’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I – I can’t. Not now.” He sighed. “I am sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But – it is rather a lot to take in, it’s been a long time since -”

Jamie cast his gaze over the Doctor, taking in his exhaustion, the defeat etched into his face, his posture, his very frame. “How long’s it been? For ye?” The Doctor shook his head wordlessly. “Longer than the week it was for me, then.”

“Much longer,” the Doctor admitted quietly. “I, ah, don’t want to talk about it, Jamie. Not yet, anyway.”

Jamie nodded, then yawned in a way the Doctor was almost sure was fake. “I’m tired,” he said. “An’ famished.” He gestured towards the corridor. “Do ye mind if I -”

“Go ahead.”

Nodding, Jamie retreated down the corridor, glancing nervously back at the Doctor before ducking into the kitchen. The Doctor slumped onto the floor, leaning against the console and staring up at the door. Whatever he had expected to feel upon seeing Jamie again, it had not been this strained, tired emptiness. He supposed he needed some time to get used to the idea – but a part of him wondered if he had been forever broken by their separation, and if things would ever click back into place. The fear with which Jamie had regarded him when he was challenging the Time Lords had startled him. Had he become just like them, in Jamie’s absence? Would Jamie grow to hate him, as he himself had grown to hate his superiors? Even the sound of Jamie rifling through the kitchen cupboards was not as comfortingly familiar as it had once been, just another weight pressing in on his panicky, racing mind.

He was unsure how long he spent sitting there, gazing out into nothingness. The lights darkened into the night-cycle around him, bright, clinical white fading into dusky blue, but he hardly noticed. When he did stir, he found himself stiff and sluggish. He was getting old, he thought to himself. Had Jamie noticed? Would he care? Easing himself to his feet, he set off down the corridor, pausing in the doorway of his bedroom to admire the once-familiar sight of Jamie sprawled in his – no, _their_ bed.

His musings were interrupted by the quiet sound of Jamie’s voice. “I’m no’ asleep, ye know.”

He let out a soft huff of laughter. “I didn’t think you were.”

“I was waitin’ for ye.”

“Hm.” Cautiously settling himself on the edge of the bed, the Doctor reached out to touch Jamie’s side, as if making sure he would not fade away before his eyes. “I’m glad to see you remember where everything is.”

“How could I forget? It’s only been a couple of days. For me, at least.” _A couple of days_. It seemed so brief compared to the Doctor’s own lonely infinity, but the sharp twist of jealousy in his chest was quickly smothered by relief that Jamie had been spared the pain of it. “Will ye ever tell me how long it was for ye?”

His first instinct was to lie, to throw out some span of time at random, but when Jamie rolled over, his eyes were filled with an understanding that the Doctor found he could not deny. “How did you know?” he said at last.

Jamie grinned. “You’re always tellin’ me time’s relative.” His smile faded a little. “It’s no’ that. It’s your eyes. I’ve never seen ye this tired.” The Doctor nodded. “So, are ye going tae -”

“Ask me later,” the Doctor interrupted. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” He yawned. “Perhaps in a few years. I don’t know.” He lifted the covers, then paused, glancing towards Jamie nervously. “Ah – may I -”

“’Course ye can.” Jamie shuffled over, making room for him. “Anyway, it’s your bed.”

“Mm.” Hurrying to slip out of his coat and trousers, the Doctor burrowed beneath the covers. “I thought you might like some space. To get used to things again, on your own.”

Jamie looked at him incredulously. “But I missed ye,” he said quietly. “Did ye not miss me? Didn’t ye want me back?” A flicker of horror crossed his face. “Is that why – before, with them, ye were so -”

“I _did_ miss you,” the Doctor said softly. “But I thought – perhaps I had changed too much, and you wouldn’t want me back. Not like this.”

“Oh.” Shifting closer again, Jamie draped his arm over the Doctor’s waist tentatively. “I suppose ye have changed. You’re thinner.”

“I haven’t had the time or inclination to keep up with a human meal schedule.” Jamie’s fingers brushed against his bare skin where his shirt had ridden up, and the Doctor shrank away from his touch, the faint, inadvertent press of Jamie's mind against his own. “I – I can’t.”

“Aye, alright.” Jamie shifted his hand away, settling it over his waist, clutching at his shirt. “I’ll have tae get ye back into the habit,” he added, a little awkwardly. “Of eatin', I mean.”

“It’s not just that,” the Doctor said. “It’s been a long time, I’m used to being on my own – I’m afraid I’m not the person you expect me to be, Jamie.”

Brushing the Doctor’s hair out of his eyes, Jamie watched his face in silence for a long moment. “Aye, ye are,” he said eventually. “Ye just cannae see it anymore. Are ye worried that we dinnae understand each other now?”

“Something like that. I wouldn’t want the person I am now to disappoint you.”

“Can ye still love me?”

“Can I -” The thought of getting Jamie back had kept him going for so long that the thought of not loving him anymore seemed quite absurd. It was the one truth that remained in this mess the Time Lords had made for them, and he knew he had to hold onto it as tightly as he could. “Of course I can.”

“Then I’m happy.” Jamie drew him close again, putting his arm back around him. “I’ll bring ye breakfast in the morning.”

The Doctor chuckled. “You’re never out of bed early enough.”

“This time I will be, you’ll see.”

* * *

The bed was cold when he woke.

The Doctor floundered amongst the blankets for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as if it would help him remember the previous night’s events. Something important had happened, he was sure of it – if only he could separate reality from dreaming -

_Oh._

So, he thought. It had not been a dream, unlike all the other times. He had no missions assigned, the Time Lords had relented and returned Jamie to him, and he was surely making their breakfast at that very moment. For the first time in years, he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. At last, he opened his eyes, stretching out across the bed and making as if to sit up.

His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic, and his heart plummeted into his stomach.

When he looked up, he saw that a small playback device sat amongst the tangled bedsheets, and scrambled to pick it up. The screen faded into life at his touch, revealing the dispassionate faces of the council.

“ _Remote sentencing record number four-one-three,_ ” one of the Time Lords droned. “ _Taken at -_ ” Mumbling curses, the Doctor felt around for a fast-forward button. He tapped something that looked likely, and the video jumped ahead. “ _Your sentence has been amended, Doctor. Your companion was returned to you for six hours in order to encourage efficiency in your work._ ”

“No,” the Doctor murmured. “No, they can’t have...”

His stomach churned as the recording entered a lengthy passage about the importance of his missions, and he pressed the skip button again. “ _\- has been placed in a stasis chamber within your own TARDIS until such time as we see fit to return him to you,_ ” the recording continued. “ _Any attempts to open the chamber without the proper authorisation will result in the life support system being deactivated. Interfering with the circuitry is not recommended. We feel sure that you will comply with these terms._ ” The screen faded to black once again.

“No,” the Doctor repeated. “No, no, they can’t have taken him – Jamie!” The thought of the Time Lords having entered his TARDIS – their _bedroom_ – without him knowing sickened him. The thought that Jamie had clearly struggled, judging by the state of the bed and the few objects knocked off shelves, sickened him further. “ _Jamie!_ ” The TARDIS was deafeningly, horrifyingly quiet. There was no answering call, and, now he thought about it, no smell of cooking breakfast or clattering of pots emanating from the kitchen. He was utterly, crushingly alone.

“Give me more time!” he shouted, as if the Time Lords could hear him through the playback device. “A week – a _day_ – I don’t care, just let me speak with him!” Silence. “At least let me say goodbye!”

He struck out at the recording device, sending it crashing to the floor. Even as it fell, the screen sputtered to life again, and he buried his face in his hands, trying to block it out. “ _Remote sentencing recording number four-one-three-_ ”

“I just need more _time_!”


End file.
